My dearest Ben and Jerry,
Did you ever know that you're my heroes?
Warmly,
dave
P.S. Why, you ask? A silly question, to be sure, but my top four reasons are as follows (other folks' mileage may differ):
1. Half-Baked
2. Karamel Sutra
3. Dublin Mudslide
4. Mint Chocolate Cookie
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
81. Yes, a "third place."
I've previously mentioned some of the positive things that came about from a year and a half of thankless work as a Starbucks barista.*
There's another positive aspect, though--one that I'm almost loath to mention because it practically veers into the realm of corporate PR shill-ery.
See, I have this theory that a major component of Starbucks' busines model is predicated on the assumption that the company's ex-employees will become addicted to the coffee during their time as partners. And once they leave the company, they'll actually become daily customers.
It's a brilliant, evil plan, so dastardly that surely it could only have been hatched from deep within the bowels ofHell Seattle.**
I know of its power, because it worked on me. I succumbed. I became a Starbucks junkie, something I'm not altogether proud to admit.
Every day, I go to my neighborhood Starbucks--a good two minute walk from my apartment (a store which, despite that miniscule commute, was not even the one I worked at)--and order my usual: a boring old grande coffee (with room for cream and sugar).
So what's so wondrous about being manipulated through force of habit and addiction to spend $1.85 every morning, you ask?
Well, the truth is, it's become a nice part of my morning routine. And I'm probably not that addicted to Starbucks coffee; I could probably get coffee anywhere and be satisfied. It's really about the people at my neighborhood store--both the folks behind the counter and the regulars who frequent the store--who I enjoy seeing for a brief moment or two every morning.
I like how the store manager always calls me "David" (probably because that's what she saw on all the official staff listings when I was working for the company). I enjoy chatting with the various baristas--the funny Asian guy, the older British woman with a great, quintessentially British name (Moira), the cute redhead, the other cute redhead (yeah, yeah...call it Charlie Brown Syndrome), the guy who lives in my apartment complex, and so on.
Some of the customers still know and recognize me from my time as a barista (my old store is literally 250 yards away), so it's nice to see them and chat with them. With perhaps the exception of the crazy old man who gabs my ear off with long-winded stories that betray some deep-seated anger issues. But even then, seeing him is a bit comforting to me; I would miss him if he was no longer there.
Before my time as a barista, I would usually walk into the store, get my drink (formerly a carmel apple cider--until I came to realize how annoying a drink it is to make), say very little to the baristas, and usually walk out with little fanfare. Not that I was unfriendly, per se; I just didn't feel like I could make friends with people I saw for a minute or two at a time.
But something about wearing the green apron for a season changed me in a small way. Now I know almost every barista at the store by name. I enjoy chatting with them throughout my time at the store (whether for a minute or two or four a few hours), relishing those fleeting moments every day that I get to share with them.
It doesn't seem like they should matter, these fleeting moments of short and simple interactions. But they do. And I'm glad that I can now see this store as a place that offers some semblance of that much-desired sense of community.
*Well, not entirely thankless. I recently became friends with a girl from church who would frequent my store when I worked there, and she sent me a very sweet note the other day, expressing her appreciation for the way I apparently beamed happiness and warmth from behind the counter. Not that I entirely believe that (OK, maybe I do), but it was super gratifying to hear, nonetheless.
**I kid, I kid. Seattle's a great town.
There's another positive aspect, though--one that I'm almost loath to mention because it practically veers into the realm of corporate PR shill-ery.
See, I have this theory that a major component of Starbucks' busines model is predicated on the assumption that the company's ex-employees will become addicted to the coffee during their time as partners. And once they leave the company, they'll actually become daily customers.
It's a brilliant, evil plan, so dastardly that surely it could only have been hatched from deep within the bowels of
I know of its power, because it worked on me. I succumbed. I became a Starbucks junkie, something I'm not altogether proud to admit.
Every day, I go to my neighborhood Starbucks--a good two minute walk from my apartment (a store which, despite that miniscule commute, was not even the one I worked at)--and order my usual: a boring old grande coffee (with room for cream and sugar).
So what's so wondrous about being manipulated through force of habit and addiction to spend $1.85 every morning, you ask?
Well, the truth is, it's become a nice part of my morning routine. And I'm probably not that addicted to Starbucks coffee; I could probably get coffee anywhere and be satisfied. It's really about the people at my neighborhood store--both the folks behind the counter and the regulars who frequent the store--who I enjoy seeing for a brief moment or two every morning.
I like how the store manager always calls me "David" (probably because that's what she saw on all the official staff listings when I was working for the company). I enjoy chatting with the various baristas--the funny Asian guy, the older British woman with a great, quintessentially British name (Moira), the cute redhead, the other cute redhead (yeah, yeah...call it Charlie Brown Syndrome), the guy who lives in my apartment complex, and so on.
Some of the customers still know and recognize me from my time as a barista (my old store is literally 250 yards away), so it's nice to see them and chat with them. With perhaps the exception of the crazy old man who gabs my ear off with long-winded stories that betray some deep-seated anger issues. But even then, seeing him is a bit comforting to me; I would miss him if he was no longer there.
Before my time as a barista, I would usually walk into the store, get my drink (formerly a carmel apple cider--until I came to realize how annoying a drink it is to make), say very little to the baristas, and usually walk out with little fanfare. Not that I was unfriendly, per se; I just didn't feel like I could make friends with people I saw for a minute or two at a time.
But something about wearing the green apron for a season changed me in a small way. Now I know almost every barista at the store by name. I enjoy chatting with them throughout my time at the store (whether for a minute or two or four a few hours), relishing those fleeting moments every day that I get to share with them.
It doesn't seem like they should matter, these fleeting moments of short and simple interactions. But they do. And I'm glad that I can now see this store as a place that offers some semblance of that much-desired sense of community.
*Well, not entirely thankless. I recently became friends with a girl from church who would frequent my store when I worked there, and she sent me a very sweet note the other day, expressing her appreciation for the way I apparently beamed happiness and warmth from behind the counter. Not that I entirely believe that (OK, maybe I do), but it was super gratifying to hear, nonetheless.
**I kid, I kid. Seattle's a great town.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
80. No apples for the teacher, but still...
...I have great students this round of classes.
They're fun, gregarious, interesting, willing to interact with me, and willing to work hard to get their test scores up. And that makes my job a whole lot more enjoyable.
They're fun, gregarious, interesting, willing to interact with me, and willing to work hard to get their test scores up. And that makes my job a whole lot more enjoyable.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
79. A long-overdue musical discovery.
I have my friend and former bandmate/songwriting partner Thom to thank for an important--and yes, long-overdue--musical discovery I made circa 2005.
Thom, a Brit who had just emigrated to the States with his new (Yankee) bride, gave me a proper introduction to the music of the Beatles.
See, I used to be a Beatles hater. For no reason other than the fact that they were just too damned popular. I would throw around the term "overrated" and refuse to give them a fair hearing.
But Thom gave me a few of their albums and asked me to give 'em a shot. Among those albums: Revolver, Rubber Soul, The White Album, and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
I quickly became a convert. And am ever so glad that I've come to see the light. The Liverpoolians' music has since become a regular fixture in my life's perpetual playlist. I'd even go so far as to say that much of my songwriting since 2005 has taken something of a McCartney-esque turn, from a more moody and melancholy sound (influenced primarily by R.E.M. and Springsteen) to something more bouncy and ebullient, if not just a little too schmaltzy and campy.
And since then, Sgt. Pepper's and Rubber Soul have catapulted their way into my top ten favorite records of all time.
So thank you, Thom, for showing me what a stubborn fool I had been and introducing me to a quartet of songwriters / musicians that, quite frankly, I had no business ignoring for so long.
Thom, a Brit who had just emigrated to the States with his new (Yankee) bride, gave me a proper introduction to the music of the Beatles.
See, I used to be a Beatles hater. For no reason other than the fact that they were just too damned popular. I would throw around the term "overrated" and refuse to give them a fair hearing.
But Thom gave me a few of their albums and asked me to give 'em a shot. Among those albums: Revolver, Rubber Soul, The White Album, and Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
I quickly became a convert. And am ever so glad that I've come to see the light. The Liverpoolians' music has since become a regular fixture in my life's perpetual playlist. I'd even go so far as to say that much of my songwriting since 2005 has taken something of a McCartney-esque turn, from a more moody and melancholy sound (influenced primarily by R.E.M. and Springsteen) to something more bouncy and ebullient, if not just a little too schmaltzy and campy.
And since then, Sgt. Pepper's and Rubber Soul have catapulted their way into my top ten favorite records of all time.
So thank you, Thom, for showing me what a stubborn fool I had been and introducing me to a quartet of songwriters / musicians that, quite frankly, I had no business ignoring for so long.
Monday, March 16, 2009
78. Things that are fun:
(In no particular order, but primarily based on empirical, real-life experience from the last few days)
- Rock Band. Have we discussed this yet?
- St. Paddy's Day parties with lots of friends, lots of green, lots of Guinness.
- Mustache March (which I, sadly, have not participated in yet; but seeing as how it's been three days since I last shaved, were I to choose to participate, I'd be well on my way to a full-grown beard in about 11 days--give or take a day--which I could then fashion into a mustache of my choosing for a self-imposed very limited time only.)
- Teaching the kids at Sunday School. Even though it means I have to miss the church service (and, to be perfectly honest, I was pretty cranky about having to miss my time of fellowship and worship this week), it's time well-spent. Kids remind me to be young and silly, especially when I need it.
(To wit: we discovered that the plastic IKEA trash makes a great djembe, and we rocked out a massive drum solo on it...until we inadvertently smashed a hole into it, ending our short-lived careers as drum circle-ists, and dashing whatever hopes we may have had of trying out for STOMP.)
- Wedding receptions. Don't get me started on weddings (they dredge up some serious fears in me, i.e. that I'm never going to see the day come for me), but this particular one I attended was simple and stunningly beautiful--the ceremony, at a little cove of gorgeous Pacific Ocean-front serenity in Malibu. An absolutely inspiring and heart-warming event. The reception involved food and dancing--both of which I enjoy immensely.
- Discovering new joints in LA, and new friends as well. The Griffin and The Bigfoot Lodge both won their ways into my heart this weekend with their charm, their unpretentious nature, and the fun/attractive/interesting clientele they attract. Plus, the Bigfoot serves this one drink with a flaming marshmallow on top--so you know it's gotta be a fun place!
- Starting a new Twitter-fad. Or so I hope. Look for it soon, Twitterinos: I call said fad Vanity License Plate Hunting.
(What? I'm a simple man. A simple, strange, man.)
- This crazy board game I played a few weeks ago with some friends.
- Tickling the polyurethanes. That is, my keyboard. Lots of interesting and fun little ditties have been produced in the last two weeks, most of which will never see the light of day, but still!
- Dreaming up the next big adventure of '09 with Austin: Hawaii. I've never been!
- Dreaming up the next big venture of my life with Jon: a start-up company. I've never done!
- Lots of sleep after what's been an insaneweek month of work. And an insane amount of fun, as it seems after re-reading this post.
- Rock Band. Have we discussed this yet?
- St. Paddy's Day parties with lots of friends, lots of green, lots of Guinness.
- Mustache March (which I, sadly, have not participated in yet; but seeing as how it's been three days since I last shaved, were I to choose to participate, I'd be well on my way to a full-grown beard in about 11 days--give or take a day--which I could then fashion into a mustache of my choosing for a self-imposed very limited time only.)
- Teaching the kids at Sunday School. Even though it means I have to miss the church service (and, to be perfectly honest, I was pretty cranky about having to miss my time of fellowship and worship this week), it's time well-spent. Kids remind me to be young and silly, especially when I need it.
(To wit: we discovered that the plastic IKEA trash makes a great djembe, and we rocked out a massive drum solo on it...until we inadvertently smashed a hole into it, ending our short-lived careers as drum circle-ists, and dashing whatever hopes we may have had of trying out for STOMP.)
- Wedding receptions. Don't get me started on weddings (they dredge up some serious fears in me, i.e. that I'm never going to see the day come for me), but this particular one I attended was simple and stunningly beautiful--the ceremony, at a little cove of gorgeous Pacific Ocean-front serenity in Malibu. An absolutely inspiring and heart-warming event. The reception involved food and dancing--both of which I enjoy immensely.
- Discovering new joints in LA, and new friends as well. The Griffin and The Bigfoot Lodge both won their ways into my heart this weekend with their charm, their unpretentious nature, and the fun/attractive/interesting clientele they attract. Plus, the Bigfoot serves this one drink with a flaming marshmallow on top--so you know it's gotta be a fun place!
- Starting a new Twitter-fad. Or so I hope. Look for it soon, Twitterinos: I call said fad Vanity License Plate Hunting.
(What? I'm a simple man. A simple, strange, man.)
- This crazy board game I played a few weeks ago with some friends.
- Tickling the polyurethanes. That is, my keyboard. Lots of interesting and fun little ditties have been produced in the last two weeks, most of which will never see the light of day, but still!
- Dreaming up the next big adventure of '09 with Austin: Hawaii. I've never been!
- Dreaming up the next big venture of my life with Jon: a start-up company. I've never done!
- Lots of sleep after what's been an insane
Friday, March 13, 2009
77. In-apartment laundry facilities.
And not just in the apartment complex. I literally mean in my apartment. For free (save for the water, power, and Snuggle costs).
I cannot tell you how wonderful not needing to hoard quarters constantly has been.
Though, to be sure, every one of my living situations since college has been the same way: in-home laundry facilities for the past five-and-a-half years! So really, this is just a continuation of such remarkable good fortune.
I hope the next place I wind up continues this streak of free washer and dryer usage. I hope I hope I hope.
I cannot tell you how wonderful not needing to hoard quarters constantly has been.
Though, to be sure, every one of my living situations since college has been the same way: in-home laundry facilities for the past five-and-a-half years! So really, this is just a continuation of such remarkable good fortune.
I hope the next place I wind up continues this streak of free washer and dryer usage. I hope I hope I hope.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
76. iPhone apps are the haps.
I'll get around to writing a big gushy post about the iPhone at some point, seeing as how the little bugger really has been something of a revolutionary device for my everyday life.
But for now, allow me to express my gratitude and appreciation for several of the third-party iPhone applications that have done wonders for me in the past few weeks. I'll list two in particular for which I'm extremely grateful.
I've recently starting twittering up a storm, thanks in part to Sarah's prolific example. That, and thanks to the switch I made from a less-than-bearably-lame iPhone Twitter app to a great (and free!) one called TwitterFon. Now it's one of my most-commonly used apps; 'cause, y'know, I have some weird fascination with the daily minutia of Shaquille O'Neal's life.
Productive? Maybe not. Addicting? Quite.
(The whole Twitter explosion in the past few months has been an interesting thing to witness, I might add. And I'm not quite sure what to make of it, other than to just try and keep up.)
I've also been doing a lot of songwriting in recent weeks, thanks to the various music-related opportunities I've been given lately--namely, my nascent musical partnership with Lauren. The iTalk app has been a fantastic app in this regard, as I can record song ideas I plunk out on the keyboard and then send them to her via e-mail.
And it's a nice way for me to listen to basic song ideas and chord progressions over and over in the car and come up with melody lines and lyrical concepts.
(None of which are really any good, mind you, but still.)
But for now, allow me to express my gratitude and appreciation for several of the third-party iPhone applications that have done wonders for me in the past few weeks. I'll list two in particular for which I'm extremely grateful.
I've recently starting twittering up a storm, thanks in part to Sarah's prolific example. That, and thanks to the switch I made from a less-than-bearably-lame iPhone Twitter app to a great (and free!) one called TwitterFon. Now it's one of my most-commonly used apps; 'cause, y'know, I have some weird fascination with the daily minutia of Shaquille O'Neal's life.
Productive? Maybe not. Addicting? Quite.
(The whole Twitter explosion in the past few months has been an interesting thing to witness, I might add. And I'm not quite sure what to make of it, other than to just try and keep up.)
I've also been doing a lot of songwriting in recent weeks, thanks to the various music-related opportunities I've been given lately--namely, my nascent musical partnership with Lauren. The iTalk app has been a fantastic app in this regard, as I can record song ideas I plunk out on the keyboard and then send them to her via e-mail.
And it's a nice way for me to listen to basic song ideas and chord progressions over and over in the car and come up with melody lines and lyrical concepts.
(None of which are really any good, mind you, but still.)
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
75. Long days of work.
It's a crazy week of work for me.
Sunday was a 12.5 hour day. Yesterday I had to squeeze six hours of tutoring and 1.5 hours of driving into six hours. Wednesday I'll have to squeeze eight hours of tutoring and 1.5 hours of driving into...seven hours.
That's the one downside of SAT tutoring: on the week before the test, you're required to pull off metaphysically-impossible feats of scheduling. Considering high school students only have a small window of time outside of class in which they can meet for two hours, it's a rather tall order.
I told someone yesterday that it's times like these when I equate being an SAT tutor to being in the Mafia: you get the job done, no matter what you have to do, no matter how many deals with the Devil you have to make.
And anyone who sees me this week gets to hear my tired lament about what a physically exhausting and stressful week it is.
But: I'm working. And getting paid rather nicely for it.
And that's a tremendous blessing considering the troubling state of economic affairs we find ourselves in, now knee-deep into 2009.
So I'll probably continue to whine, moan, and complain about the insanity of the week. But I know full-well that it could be worse. A lot worse.
...
In some not-so-thanksgiving-like news, regarding my absence from this blog for the past five days or so: my computer is now officially in a comatose state. So, as I mentioned a few weeks back, I may be taking something of an on-again/off-again hiatus while I secure a reliable source of computing and internet access (the iPhone--for all that I love about it--is admittedly not the world's greatest blogging tool, so I've been reticent to update from it).
That has certainly added to this already-stressful week.
I promise I'll try to keep up with some semi-consistent posting, though.
Sunday was a 12.5 hour day. Yesterday I had to squeeze six hours of tutoring and 1.5 hours of driving into six hours. Wednesday I'll have to squeeze eight hours of tutoring and 1.5 hours of driving into...seven hours.
That's the one downside of SAT tutoring: on the week before the test, you're required to pull off metaphysically-impossible feats of scheduling. Considering high school students only have a small window of time outside of class in which they can meet for two hours, it's a rather tall order.
I told someone yesterday that it's times like these when I equate being an SAT tutor to being in the Mafia: you get the job done, no matter what you have to do, no matter how many deals with the Devil you have to make.
And anyone who sees me this week gets to hear my tired lament about what a physically exhausting and stressful week it is.
But: I'm working. And getting paid rather nicely for it.
And that's a tremendous blessing considering the troubling state of economic affairs we find ourselves in, now knee-deep into 2009.
So I'll probably continue to whine, moan, and complain about the insanity of the week. But I know full-well that it could be worse. A lot worse.
...
In some not-so-thanksgiving-like news, regarding my absence from this blog for the past five days or so: my computer is now officially in a comatose state. So, as I mentioned a few weeks back, I may be taking something of an on-again/off-again hiatus while I secure a reliable source of computing and internet access (the iPhone--for all that I love about it--is admittedly not the world's greatest blogging tool, so I've been reticent to update from it).
That has certainly added to this already-stressful week.
I promise I'll try to keep up with some semi-consistent posting, though.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
74. 'Cause they're so much fun to write on:
Dry erase boards.
Seriously. One of my favorite things about my teaching gig.
(What? Can't a guy write about something that's not so knock-your-socks-off, oh-my-gosh-my-life-is-kinda-awesome-sometimes once in a while? Huh? Can't he?!?)
(Also: more photos from the party are popping up over on Facebook.)
Seriously. One of my favorite things about my teaching gig.
(What? Can't a guy write about something that's not so knock-your-socks-off, oh-my-gosh-my-life-is-kinda-awesome-sometimes once in a while? Huh? Can't he?!?)
(Also: more photos from the party are popping up over on Facebook.)
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Monday, March 2, 2009
73. A wonderful birthday.
I had 75 people show up to my birthday party on Saturday night.
Seventy-five people. That still kinda blows me away.
The Miracle Fruit, the Rock Band, the great location that I thankfully managed to score just a few days prior (no way could 75 souls have squeezed into my apartment!), and the wonderful cast of amazing characters from various parts of my life here in LA: it was all unbelievably great.
And that's not just my opinion; it seems to be the overwhelming consensus amongst the attendees. That, too, is a source of immeasurable happiness for me--that my friends had a good time, made some connections with one another (silly as it sounds, I love seeing my friends become facebook friends with each other), and enjoyed the strange new experience of "flavor tripping" with me.
I'll post pictures once I receive them from the various folks who took 'em.
What an evening. What a blessed 28-year old I am.
Seventy-five people. That still kinda blows me away.
The Miracle Fruit, the Rock Band, the great location that I thankfully managed to score just a few days prior (no way could 75 souls have squeezed into my apartment!), and the wonderful cast of amazing characters from various parts of my life here in LA: it was all unbelievably great.
And that's not just my opinion; it seems to be the overwhelming consensus amongst the attendees. That, too, is a source of immeasurable happiness for me--that my friends had a good time, made some connections with one another (silly as it sounds, I love seeing my friends become facebook friends with each other), and enjoyed the strange new experience of "flavor tripping" with me.
I'll post pictures once I receive them from the various folks who took 'em.
What an evening. What a blessed 28-year old I am.
72.5 A hard-fought year, 2.
(I apologize in advance: it's a long one.)
Where was I? Oh, right. My year at age 27.
When I turned 27 last February the 28th, I was a complete wreck. Still reeling from the emotional fallout from the end of the relationship that brought me back to LA; still reeling from the untimely end of my car just three weeks earlier (which, in a deliciously ironic twist, happened on my way to shoot a scene for the VW doc in which I was to dramatize my life in LA before the Bus, roaming the city sans car).
The only thing that brought me any joy was watching the new season of "LOST" unfold on TV every week.
It didn't get much better for a while. I was working like a madman (mostly tutoring, though also still as a lowly barista). But all of the money I made had to go towards rental cars--rental cars needed in order to keep working (again, such delicious irony). Plus, my credit score was about as high as a hockey game score, and debts were stacking up. I was on a sinking ship, financially-speaking.
Relationally, it simply wasn't happening, either--and that didn't vary much throughout the year. I got stood up on what would've been my first "official" date in well over a year. Then my therapist tried to set me up with one of her other clients--which was not only pretty obscenely unethical, but also wound up as another notch in the ol' rejection belt (nice form of therapy you got there, lady).
And about 9 different girls (including my most recent ex-girlfriend) got engaged over the course of the year, most of whom I'd had at least a passing interest in over the years. Nine! Like salt in the wound, it was.
The VW documentary, the project I'd committed myself to staying in LA for--despite the difficulty with which it now took me to muster up the passion to work on--went from tenuous but positive progress for much of the year, to where it's at now: a near standstill.
And on top of all that: my guy lost the election.
So in a lot of ways, it was a pisser of a year, so to speak.
But, somehow I managed to make it through. And in the midst of all the frustrations and setbacks, some wonderful things came about for me:
- I worked my way up through the ranks of my company (thanks in large part to my parents' help with the whole car situation), so that within a year of my hiring, I was--and still am--considered one of its top three teachers. While SAT prep is not a long-term career option--I liken it to an actor waiting tables--it's still extremely gratifying to be considered "the best" at what you do, and this company has, by and large, shown me a lot of appreciation and support to that end.
- I was able to return to Iraq for a few weeks, work with my former students, visit with old friends, and just commune with my little adopted corner of the globe once again.
- I got to visit four amazing global cities that I've always wanted to see: London, Vancouver, Istanbul, and Copenhagen.
- I went to many concerts over the year, seeing many of my favorite bands on the planet right now, including: R.E.M., The National, Of Montreal, Spoon, Coldplay, Modest Mouse, MGMT, The Broken West, Andrew Bird, Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver, and Phosphorescent.
- I found a church home in LA, which has been a source of many remarkable blessings, not the least of which is the amazing group of friends I've made there.
- And perhaps most importantly, I was able to get much of my financial house in order. I haven't made it out of the woods just yet, but I've made a lot of progress and expect to continue doing so.
So maybe 27 wasn't an amazing year in any particular sense, but a lot of wonderful things still came my way. And perhaps the overarching theme of this year in my life is that I managed to tough it out when the odds (mostly financial) were kinda stacked against me. And that's something to be proud of.
It was a good year of growth and maturation. Which isn't to say that now, at 28, I'm the epitome of adulthood: my room is still as messy as it ever was, I'm neglecting work that needs to be done (including the work of cleaning up after my monster party from Saturday...but more on that later), and I bought both breakfast and lunch from nearby eateries instead of cooking for myself.
But I'm thankful for the growth that I have witnessed in myself. And am hoping that at 28, I will reap some of the benefits of this growth and the hard work that enabled it.
Where was I? Oh, right. My year at age 27.
When I turned 27 last February the 28th, I was a complete wreck. Still reeling from the emotional fallout from the end of the relationship that brought me back to LA; still reeling from the untimely end of my car just three weeks earlier (which, in a deliciously ironic twist, happened on my way to shoot a scene for the VW doc in which I was to dramatize my life in LA before the Bus, roaming the city sans car).
The only thing that brought me any joy was watching the new season of "LOST" unfold on TV every week.
It didn't get much better for a while. I was working like a madman (mostly tutoring, though also still as a lowly barista). But all of the money I made had to go towards rental cars--rental cars needed in order to keep working (again, such delicious irony). Plus, my credit score was about as high as a hockey game score, and debts were stacking up. I was on a sinking ship, financially-speaking.
Relationally, it simply wasn't happening, either--and that didn't vary much throughout the year. I got stood up on what would've been my first "official" date in well over a year. Then my therapist tried to set me up with one of her other clients--which was not only pretty obscenely unethical, but also wound up as another notch in the ol' rejection belt (nice form of therapy you got there, lady).
And about 9 different girls (including my most recent ex-girlfriend) got engaged over the course of the year, most of whom I'd had at least a passing interest in over the years. Nine! Like salt in the wound, it was.
The VW documentary, the project I'd committed myself to staying in LA for--despite the difficulty with which it now took me to muster up the passion to work on--went from tenuous but positive progress for much of the year, to where it's at now: a near standstill.
And on top of all that: my guy lost the election.
So in a lot of ways, it was a pisser of a year, so to speak.
But, somehow I managed to make it through. And in the midst of all the frustrations and setbacks, some wonderful things came about for me:
- I worked my way up through the ranks of my company (thanks in large part to my parents' help with the whole car situation), so that within a year of my hiring, I was--and still am--considered one of its top three teachers. While SAT prep is not a long-term career option--I liken it to an actor waiting tables--it's still extremely gratifying to be considered "the best" at what you do, and this company has, by and large, shown me a lot of appreciation and support to that end.
- I was able to return to Iraq for a few weeks, work with my former students, visit with old friends, and just commune with my little adopted corner of the globe once again.
- I got to visit four amazing global cities that I've always wanted to see: London, Vancouver, Istanbul, and Copenhagen.
- I went to many concerts over the year, seeing many of my favorite bands on the planet right now, including: R.E.M., The National, Of Montreal, Spoon, Coldplay, Modest Mouse, MGMT, The Broken West, Andrew Bird, Fleet Foxes, Bon Iver, and Phosphorescent.
- I found a church home in LA, which has been a source of many remarkable blessings, not the least of which is the amazing group of friends I've made there.
- And perhaps most importantly, I was able to get much of my financial house in order. I haven't made it out of the woods just yet, but I've made a lot of progress and expect to continue doing so.
So maybe 27 wasn't an amazing year in any particular sense, but a lot of wonderful things still came my way. And perhaps the overarching theme of this year in my life is that I managed to tough it out when the odds (mostly financial) were kinda stacked against me. And that's something to be proud of.
It was a good year of growth and maturation. Which isn't to say that now, at 28, I'm the epitome of adulthood: my room is still as messy as it ever was, I'm neglecting work that needs to be done (including the work of cleaning up after my monster party from Saturday...but more on that later), and I bought both breakfast and lunch from nearby eateries instead of cooking for myself.
But I'm thankful for the growth that I have witnessed in myself. And am hoping that at 28, I will reap some of the benefits of this growth and the hard work that enabled it.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
72. A hard-fought year, 1.
(Originally written on February 27th. Not posted until now because I've been running around like a madman these past few days.)
Today is my last day as a 27-year old.
I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, except to say that it was a hard-fought year, and that I'm proud I made it through.
It certainly wasn't the year I envisioned having at 27. Granted, no year since college has turned out like I'd envisioned--for better or for worse--but still, 27 was a weird one in that I'm not quite sure how to define it.
The other years--perhaps because there's now some distance and the objectivity that comes from hindsight--are easier to define. Each has a clear storyline, a theme, a sense of direction and movement.
Twenty-three was hard because I was still adjusting to post-college life, adjusting to life as a New Yorker, and adjusting to the void in my life left in the wake of the demise of the relationships with my two closest friends. But in the end, it turned out to be a pretty amazing year, due, in part, to my blossoming relationship with the City of New York.
Twenty-four was a beautifully strange year in which I fulfilled several long-standing dreams: namely, to play in a bona fide rock band, and to teach overseas.
Twenty-five was split between my relationship with the people of Northern Iraq and my relationship with a girl back home. In the end, the girl won, and I moved from Iraq back to New York, and from New York back to LA to be with her.
Twenty-six was a continuation of the relationship with the girl, which led me towards a wild new journey with a documentary project featuring the VW Bus I bought on eBay for roughly $800. When the relationship with the girl ended, I moved all of my energy and focus into the documentary project; but, seeing as how the two were inextricably linked in my life, I'd subconsciously lost the will to continue on with the project, a realization I've only come to accept in recent months.
So that brings us to this past year. Which I'll talk about in the forthcoming Part 2.
Today is my last day as a 27-year old.
I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, except to say that it was a hard-fought year, and that I'm proud I made it through.
It certainly wasn't the year I envisioned having at 27. Granted, no year since college has turned out like I'd envisioned--for better or for worse--but still, 27 was a weird one in that I'm not quite sure how to define it.
The other years--perhaps because there's now some distance and the objectivity that comes from hindsight--are easier to define. Each has a clear storyline, a theme, a sense of direction and movement.
Twenty-three was hard because I was still adjusting to post-college life, adjusting to life as a New Yorker, and adjusting to the void in my life left in the wake of the demise of the relationships with my two closest friends. But in the end, it turned out to be a pretty amazing year, due, in part, to my blossoming relationship with the City of New York.
Twenty-four was a beautifully strange year in which I fulfilled several long-standing dreams: namely, to play in a bona fide rock band, and to teach overseas.
Twenty-five was split between my relationship with the people of Northern Iraq and my relationship with a girl back home. In the end, the girl won, and I moved from Iraq back to New York, and from New York back to LA to be with her.
Twenty-six was a continuation of the relationship with the girl, which led me towards a wild new journey with a documentary project featuring the VW Bus I bought on eBay for roughly $800. When the relationship with the girl ended, I moved all of my energy and focus into the documentary project; but, seeing as how the two were inextricably linked in my life, I'd subconsciously lost the will to continue on with the project, a realization I've only come to accept in recent months.
So that brings us to this past year. Which I'll talk about in the forthcoming Part 2.
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